


Unravel

by pariahpirate



Series: bits 'o this and that [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Mei-Ling Zhou does not care for Junkrat, or Australia, ymmv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7353769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pariahpirate/pseuds/pariahpirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody knows that Junkrat has no memory of his childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unravel

It's that weird feeling again. The one that twists in his gut in ways that he can't explain. It's near painful this time, and makes even less sense than usual. The weird feeling only comes from seeing pretty jewels he oughta steal or the white marble and pristine glass windows of big banks waiting to be robbed. The half-ruined mansion is neither of these things. 

The mansion pulls. It calls. Junkrat listens. He stops thinking and starts walking instead. The feeling in his gut fills his body until every part of him thrums with it - aches with it.

The team calls out to him. Right - they were supposed to be on a mission. Track down some Talon agents or something like that. Dodgy fuckers that Overwatch wants to stop from doing dodgy things - the usual. Junkrat had been over the moon for this mission. It was his first as a fully-fledged member of Overwatch, not some weak shit probationary mission with a whiny babysitter telling him what to do and what not to blow up, and it was on his home turf. Back in Australia! He had been so excited.

Now though - now he was fully consumed by the weird feeling and right at the fancy gates of the mansion.

The mansion is massive and in ruins, just as it is with everything in Australia. The massive steps to the front door are dotted with scavenger's evidence. Small craters from small bombs. Bloodstains. Junkrat's trained eye spots something silver on the ground - small and easily overlooked. He bends down and picks it up. It's a tiny earring, a tiny little bird in flight. Junkrat feels something catch in his throat. He thinks he hears the laughter of a girl. He puts the earring in his pocket.

"Oi -Junkrat!" Tracer's calling him. She'll be at his side in seconds, probably pulling him away. Well, she can try. He's not leaving. Not yet. 

Junkrat disappears into the mansion. Tracer moves, ready to zip on and drag the Junker back, but Winston stops her. 

"Look." He says, his voice soft and sad.

Tracer follows his line of sight. She raised her hand to cover her mouth and her eyes sting.

"Oh... oh no..."

 

Mei doesn't see what Tracer and Winston saw. She passes them and is the first to follow Junkrat into the mansion, more than a bit peeved at his sudden, thoughtless abandonment of the mission at hand. All she sees is a once gorgeous home, stripped bare of all it's former finery by the lawless bullies that inhabit this forsaken country. She sees ash and blood stain wood paneling, stone floors, marble columns. She sees empty alcoves probably home to statues. She sees empty pedestal probably home to expensive vases filled with floral arrangements. Something feels off. She ignores it. 

Her footsteps echo loudly in the emptiness of the marble pillars, the shattered glass windows, the radiation-mutated plants grown twisted and vile. There's something so sad about this place, but Mei is too angry to notice. She keeps on listening to the uneven gait just ahead of her, keeps following Junkrat through the gloom of the decrepit mansion.

The sounds of his hobbling stop just as she reaches a hallway corner, which she rounds. The hallway is lined with doors, most of them broken or with horribly chipped paint. Only one of them is open, the soft light of the morning sun streaming past the door into the hall. Mei walks to that door - the door at the end of the hall.

Junkrat is in the center of the room, his back to the door, facing the morning sun through the wide window. His shoulders are shaking and he's holding something - he's crying. He's crying a lot and Mei doesn't -

no

She does understand.

This room was a child's room, left untouched by every raider to sweep through the expensive estate. The walls are painted the softest sunshine yellow, with bookshelves of baby books and faded photographs. There's an open toy box in the corner, next to the smallest violin case Mei has ever seen. The bed is so small, unmade and long abandoned, the sheets mildly moth-eaten and musty. The wood floor is littered with toys, blocks and lego contraptions, and toy cars and more than a few stuffed animals - all dusty and intrinsically sad.

Mei moves from the door frame and sees the small thing Junkrat is sobbing over. It's a tiny stuffed koala with that same obnoxious grin that has long been Junkrat's symbol.

Mei looks away as her throat grows tighter and she catches sight of a smiling family, a large family, in one of the faded photographs. A number of children with instruments, all smiling for the camera. In the center is the youngest, the smallest child with a bright and wide smile and the tiniest violin she's ever seen.

There can be no mistake. Mei has seen that smile before - wilder, sharper, and much older.

 

This place had once been Junkrat's home.

And he had forgotten it.

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by Junkrat humming Overture 1812 and the fact that his name is so damn posh. I mean, come on
> 
> I might write more of this maybe


End file.
